The Anguish Of Davy Jones
by lilyyoungblood
Summary: 16-year-old Lily Youngblood stumbles upon The Flying Dutchman and her ghastly crew. Can she melt the icy exterior of the ship's infamous captain? Davy JonesxOC oneshot OOC Davy Jones


Stormy seas and white tipped waves were a pleasant sight to the captain, however not the crew.

"Sir, we are bound to sink!"

"Have we not before?" he snapped.

Though he was young, he was an excellent captain and a great strategist. The first mate grumbled something about his stubbornness. To him, the sandy-haired, blue-eyed young man was a time bomb, waiting to blow.

"Hey! Out on starboard side! That a person there? It's a girl!" the helmsman shouted.

Davy squinted. "Another little soul to crush."

"But she's a girl, you can't-"

He turned so quickly that it strained his neck. "You think that makes a difference? Do you think I will show any more mercy than I would another pitiful soul?"

The helmsman faltered and shook his head. "No Captain."

Davy nodded and smiled coldly.

They retrieved the piece of wood she was clinging to and hauled it onto the deck. She was a bit dazed, but not so much that she couldn't think straight.

Who she assumed to be the captain pushed through the crew.

He was tall, towering over her. He had cold, glittering blue eyes, and a nasty scowl on his face. Through his loose white shirt, she could see he had a long scar dragging down his chest. When her eyes lingered on it, he grew even angrier.

"Do you know who I am?" he growled.

"Davy Jones, ferries souls of the dead, I know. Have been killing everyone in sight recently, haven't you? Killed all my sailors."

Jones' crew gaped at her. "You're a_captain_?"

She nodded tersely and jumped to her feet. "So are you going to do the whole, 'serve or die' thing?"

A dark-haired man laughed dryly. _ assumed he was the first mate. "Do you know what you're getting into lass?"

"I don't cower in fear, like most," she glared.

Davy Jones felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. "Well, Jimmy Legs, would you happen to have your cat o' nine tails on you?"

_ swallowed hard but stared right into the captain's eyes.

He arched an eyebrow. "You're bold. I would commend that, but I also want to test your boast."

Jimmy Legs gave her a snide smile. She smirked back, and spun around. She grabbed hold of the rope tied around the mast and braced herself. The first strike was like fire; she could feel the skin tear off. She bit back a scream. The more he did it, the less it hurt, until the only thing she felt was the loose skin slapping against her back.

Not once did she scream.

"Lay off," Davy growled.

"Yes, captain," Jimmy Legs said, standing back and admiring his handiwork.

"Little lass, you didn't make a sound," the captain said, smiling. She looked up at him, angry tears glittering in her eyes. His blue eyes were brighter than anything she'd ever seen, but there was a sadness behind them. He felt his sneer falter when he met her own shining eyes. They were so beautiful and her skin looked so soft. He flinched. He felt anger burn in his chest and he swore loudly. "Ten more lashes. Make her cry."

She closed her eyes and clenched the ropes again, but she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Shh, I'll fix you up."

"Bootstrap Bill?" she murmured.

He nodded. "Hush."

She turned away from him and nodded, burying her face in the splintering mast as the whip came down on her again. She wouldn't let herself cry.

"Throw rum on her, that'll make her squeal!" the first-mate called.

Jimmy Legs snickered as a crew member went to grab a few bottles.

_ felt the muscles in her back tighten as they doused her in the liquid. She hissed and let a few tears escape, much to her distaste. "Are you going to make me choose or not?"

Davy Jones was still taken aback by her resilience. He brushed some hair out of his face and crossed his arms.

"You don't get to choose, now. I get to-"

She wouldn't let him finish. She wouldn't let him win. She darted through the crew and jumped overboard, with tears dripping down her cheeks.

She dove into the water and as the salt water washed through her wounds, she let out a sob. The pain she'd held in during the ordeal was too great to hide any longer.

She watched as the crew called to her, "Swim lassie!"

"Faster!"

"Go!"

Some were taunts, some where genuine. She bobbed along the surface of the churning water and squeezed her eyes shut. She saw Davy Jones hanging from the rigging, his hat nearly blowing off in the wind. She could practically taste the rage emanating from him.

"Bill, if you don't fetch her, I will, and I can assure you, that will be the last you see of her alive," he shouted.

Bill nodded quickly and dove in after her. "Come on lassie, come on back. He'll kill you, and I've gotta catch up with you. After all, four years have passed. Those wounds won't fix themselves. It's not as bad as the Captain's been sayin'. He's in a foul mood today. And he's not too particularly fond of lassies like yourself."

Bill grabbed a hold of her arm and teleported them back to the ship.

Jones appeared in front of her and stared her down. "I would give you more lashes but I don't want to kill you. Not yet."

She nodded, and he could tell he'd broken some of the spirit she'd had before. He felt guilt tug at his heart, much to his irritation. He felt anger flare again. Before he knew it, his hand was wrapped around her neck. His hands were strong and she could feel his fingertips digging into her skin. He let go and pushed her away. "You sleep in my quarters."

"Don't you sleep there?" she asked.

"I don't sleep." He gritted his teeth and stared her down. He turned away angrily and burst through the doors to what could only be his cabin.

She nodded and made her way back, trailing him.

"Wait up, lass!" Bill called.

She stopped and turned back. The crew looked at her in awe.

"You get the cap'n all riled up," An older man with long grey hair nodded to her. "You gon' to have a rough time here."

"Why all the stories?" she asked.

"Well, we were all taken and trapped here, on our cowardly knees and bound here for the next hundred years. At first it was only ten," Maccus said, sighing. "Then after ten, the captain went ashore and came back stirring with anger and he became a cruel man, crueler than any man I'd ever met. Made us swear our lives to the Dutchman. Can't be sure he's truly a man anymore, maybe a devil. Not sure about the stories or the myths or the legends. Some may be true, but many a story about a young man are lies."

She nodded.

"We'll get you cleaned up," Bill said quickly, fearing the captain would hear them.

Jimmy Legs looked at her. "Sorry about those last ten, those were a bit heavy."

"You're doing your job," she said, though she was still a bit angry at him.

He nodded at her and waved her off. She retreated below deck with Bill, who sat her down and tugged off the remainder of her shirt. He handed her a towel to cover herself with as he worked on her back. He carefully tore away the pieces that he couldn't stitch, and doused the wound in sea water and rum. _ flinched. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Thanks, Bill."

"Hard to remember that you're all grown up still," he chuckled sadly. He tossed her a spare button up and an undershirt.

"Hard to remember being a kid," she yawned.

"Let's get you off to bed," he said. "Captain's quarters are a nice place, albeit a bit messy. I'm sure you don't care much. Him you must watch out for. He'll kill you without a second thought. He's a monster of sorts."

"I just want a bed," she smiled soberly.

Bill nodded and helped her up the stairs. He left her to find the cabin by herself, afraid of a lashing for helping her.

She heard an organ playing, loudly and fiercely and she made her way towards the sound.

Davy didn't hear her come in, but when he saw her, he regretted those extra ten lashes. She hobbled in and collapsed on the cot.

She closed her eyes and pressed her wounded back to the wall.

"You play well," she mumbled.

He was flattered, but he didn't show it. He nodded curtly and let his fingers dance over the keys again.

"Heard the stories," she said quietly. "Say you cut your own heart out."

He stopped playing abruptly. His hand flew to his chest instinctively, feeling the hollowness there. He remembered spilling blood across the deck, crying angrily and stumbling through the rain. How many weeks ago was that? Two, three, four? He'd lost track of time since then.

He turned away from her defensively. "Depends on which story you hear."

"Say other things too." She felt her voice growing quieter.

He felt his fists clench.

"What was her name?" she asked softly.

He whipped around, his eyes burning with rage.

"Shut your mouth," he snarled. Thunder roared above, and the ship tossed violently in the choppy waves. "Never speak of her again, or may the devil have sympathy for you."

He saw fear flicker in her pretty eyes, but she turned away from him, revealing the true extent of the wounds on her back. He almost regretted giving her any lashes in the first place. Blood still oozed out of them, staining the cloth that bandaged them. His hand itched to reach out to her. He shook his head violently and resumed playing to get his mind off of such things.

She listened to him play for a while. She hadn't heard such music in a long time.

He stopped playing to look at his guest again. Her hair fell into her face and the sheets dipped with every tiny breath she took.

He brushed his hair out of his eyes, a habit of his.

"Hey, lassie," he said, stirring her from her thoughts. "Never got your name."

"_."

"Alright, Miss _. Tell me the stories you've heard of the _infamous_Captain Davy Jones."

"You fell in love with the goddess of the sea, and you served the duties she lay out for you. For ten years you served, gladly and well. Ten years you waited for her, waited for the one you loved the most. Tremendous love, you had for her. Say that no one can compare to the love you gave."

She heard him shifting, and she glanced up at him. She got off of her cot and sat beside him, cross-legged on the organ bench. She saw the anger scribbled on his face. He pushed her away.

"When you docked, came to port, she wasn't there. She'd left you behind for something better, whatever it may be. And you gave her up, you bound her to human form and you kept the power of the sea for yourself, didn't you? You were guilty, though and you tore your own heart out of your chest and locked it away on an island. You abandoned your duties as the deliverer of the dead, and became a sadistic ruler of the seas, controlling the waves and dooming pirates to centuries of servitude. The most ruthless pirate to ever sail the Seven Seas."

They sat in silence for a long time, thinking their own separate thoughts.

"She _pretended_ to love me. She betrayed m-me," he said with a trembling voice.

"Did you really cut out your heart?" she asked.

"What right do you have to ask me?" he snapped, his harsh exterior creeping back. His eyes softened and he grabbed her hand and pressed it against the jagged scar.

She felt nothing, just the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He looked into her eyes, mistrusting and slightly vulnerable, but she was not in any way harsh.

She drew away, out of both fear and respect.

The waves were less ferocious and the thunder was distant. She brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"If a word of this gets out to my crew-"

"I know."

He was so furious with himself for having revealed so much to her. She was nothing but a meaningless wench he could destroy in a single second. He wasn't sure why he hadn't. He'd thought that if he'd cut his heart out, he'd never such emotions again.

"You act so much older than you are."

"Life is cruel. It batters you. Shame that it didn't do much for me; I was already a sinking stone." He laughed dryly.

"Obviously not," she said, standing up. His hand snagged out and grabbed her arm. Fright rose to her face and he could see it.

She knew there would be bruises, from the way his fingers clenched her wrist.

He looked at her, his face irate, but his eyes were confused. She felt his grip loosen.

"H-Help me," he stuttered. "I'm going mad."

She felt the fear melt away.

He looked like a confused child, an angry, lost young man with nothing left to hold onto. She pressed her lips to his soft ones, and his blue eyes fluttered in surprise. She felt his soft cornsilk hair brush against her forehead.

He jerked away as if he were tasting hot coals, but somehow it wasn't right that he did. He wanted to feel her lips on his again. These ones were true, unlike the last one's he'd shared with _her_.

These were different. These were soft and sweet, not empty.

"Would you serve me? Do me the honor of five years?" he asked hopefully, the youthful wariness in his eyes glowing hopefully.

"Yes Captain."

"Better than being thrown to the sharks, now isn't it lassie?"


End file.
